


nothing is ever truly gone

by DanceWithMeForScience



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Trans, Apocalypse, Culmets Celebration 2020, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Queer Themes, Trans Hugh Culber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanceWithMeForScience/pseuds/DanceWithMeForScience
Summary: A collection of disparate scenes prepared for the Culmets Celebration 2020!
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20
Collections: Culmets Celebration 2020





	1. a small rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 of Culmets Celebration 2020: "To Boldly Be" - Pride and Queerness in the 23rd and 32nd Century
> 
> In the midst of the strange engineering exchange between Paul, the emperor, and Hugh, Hugh remembers a time that Paul rescued him.

“You do know that he’s gay, right?” As the words fall from Hugh’s lips, he remembers how during an extended shore leave on Earth years ago, Paul had invited Hugh to attend a gala for the Federation Biology Awards...

***

Paul had worn a stunning blue suit (very close to the Starfleet uniform colors, but Hugh kept that fact to himself) with a crisp white shirt and matching blue tie. Hugh hadn’t been able to stop admiring his partner in the shuttle ride to the gala, or as they walked into the event. And then he was dazzled by seeing Paul at work. When Paul was excited about the subject matter, his social reticence would fall away. Paul circulated them amongst some groups of people that he knew, talking about his research and introducing Hugh to the colleagues he was closest to.

Eventually Hugh excused himself to get some food. He wasn’t feeling very social himself, and somewhat out of place, being Paul’s guest at an event where he knew no one. He’d attended at Paul’s request, and with appreciation for the times Paul had accompanied Hugh to similar medical events. Unfortunately tonight he’d really wanted to just curl up with a book at home, and that wasn’t an option given his promise to Paul. But busying himself at the buffet table would help.

He took a small plate and started by adding fruit and cheeses. He was examining the canapés, trying to decide between the salmon and the beef, when the person behind him interjected, “Neither of those are very good.”

“Oh?” Hugh asked, looking up from the table to see someone wearing a very fetching flowing teal dress against dark brown skin.

“I recommend the mini empanadas next to them. Much better flavor.”

Hugh peered at her nametag - _Dr. Mona Banerjee, she/her, First University of Teenok Prime_. “Thank you for the recommendation, Dr. Banerjee,” he said, reaching for one.

“It’s Mona, please. I’ve spent most of the evening lurking by this table to avoid social interaction, so I should know.” Hugh took a bite. Personally, he didn’t think it was that great, but perhaps they didn’t have great Earth food on Teenok Prime. Or maybe the canapés were really that terrible.

No matter, he’d move on. The tiny desserts at the end of the table were looking the most appealing. Today was definitely a day to not stick to his usual extremely healthy habits. “I can relate to that,” he said with a laugh. “I needed a moment away from the crowds. You’ll have to let me know which of these I should pick,” he said, gesturing to the dessert trays.

“If you like Vulcan food, try those little cream cups,” Mona recommended. “Otherwise, the Andorian pie.”

Hugh loaded up his plate, Mona close behind. She smiled at him as he took up a spot at a nearby standing table to snack. “May I join you?”

“Of course. Tell me more about Teenok Prime,” Hugh said. “I’ve never been there, or even heard much about it.”

“Not many people have. It’s a tiny Class M planet, no sentient life before the Federation arrived about fifty years ago. There are some predominantly Vulcan and Andorian settlements along with a couple of cities with higher human populations. I took a position with the faculty there seven years ago, and I was particularly interested in working there because of the variation in photosynthesis…”

Hugh found himself nodding along as he ate his food - the flavors were nothing special, but nothing bad either. Mona seemed rather outgoing, in contrast to her professed aversion to socializing, but maybe she just preferred one-on-one discussion, as Hugh himself was feeling tonight. Her ability to monologue about her field of study reminded him, fondly, of Paul doing the same, as she spoke of her current research, her dissertation work, and her hopes for her future studies.

As he was finishing his plate, Mona went on to talk about her university, and intercultural communication among her Vulcan, Andorian, and human colleagues. And then she blushed. “Oh gosh! I've been going on talking for how long? Please,” she said, laying her hand briefly on his forearm for emphasis, “tell me about yourself.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hugh assured her with a smile. “I enjoyed hearing about your life. I wasn't really feeling like talking that much anyway. Thank you from saving me from too much chitchat.”

“Still, I don’t know anything about you! What do you do? Where do you work?”

“I’m a medical doctor, a lieutenant in Starfleet, currently stationed on -”

“Hugh!” He turned to see Paul practically running toward him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Paul said teasingly, reaching Hugh’s side and, unexpectedly, wrapping an arm around his waist. They almost never engaged in public displays of affection, and Paul was particularly opposed most of the time. Yet, here he was, half-hugging Hugh in public, and acting rather more upbeat and energetic than he typically did.

“Hi, I’m Paul Stamets! Nice to meet you!” his partner went on, extending his free hand toward Mona, who took it, looking uncomfortable somehow. Why was _Mona_ uncomfortable? Hugh was the one feeling uncomfortable.

“Mona Banerjee...”

“What were you two talking about? I’m _so_ sorry to interrupt.” Paul's continuing upbeat, almost - dare Hugh call it - _flamboyant_ mood was jarring.

“Oh, I was just talking a bit about my work,” Mona said. She looked over Paul’s shoulder. “But… I see another colleague and I should say hello. Thank you for the conversation, Hugh.”

They shook hands, and Mona collected her plate and walked off.

“That was strange,” Hugh said. “She asked me about myself and now she just… disappeared.”

“Well, that answered my question,” Paul replied. “She was flirting with you.”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “ _Paul_. People can have friendly conversations.”

“Yes, of course," Paul said impatiently. "But this wasn't one of them. I saw her move around the table bit by bit over the last few minutes, and then she touched your arm. I figured I should save you before things got awkward.”

“Were you _watching_ me?”

“Can you blame me? Have you _seen_ yourself tonight?” Paul gestured up and down at Hugh’s crisp black suit with yellow shirt. “I was in the middle of an incredibly boring group conversation about academic department drama, and I could see you over their shoulders.” Paul’s eyes glowed with familiar adoration, that intense encompassing love that never failed to make Hugh feel a little weak at the knees.

“I should have said something about _your_ look earlier,” Hugh responded, running his own hand down the arm of Paul’s blue suit. “This suit is magical on you.”

Paul smiled softly at him, shyly accepting the compliment. “But in any case,” Paul changed the subject back, “I was right. As soon as I showed up, she left. She was absolutely flirting with you." He grinned. "She probably liked your suit too.”

“I can handle myself,” Hugh protested. “You didn’t need to step in.”

“I know. But I also know you weren’t enthusiastic about coming tonight. I didn’t want you to have to fend off admirers alone and have the evening ruined.”

Hugh's defensiveness melted away, his heart now warmed at Paul's thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” he said finally.

“You’re welcome.” Paul leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Dinner is going to start soon, and I already looked up the wine that’s being served. Chateau Trois Rivières, 2250.” Hugh’s eyes widened. “Aha," Paul said triumphantly. "I thought you’d like that. We could go save our seats and pour ourselves a glass before everyone gets there?”

“Lead the way.”

***

And when Paul took Hugh's saving comment, and stood up for himself and for Hugh to Agent Georgiou, Hugh knew Paul was remembering that time. The moment passed between them like a gift. He hoped he’d created an opening for them to… well, he still didn’t know what he wanted. But he didn’t want this chasm between them to widen until they didn’t know each other at all. And a small part of him wanted Paul to rescue him again - but this time, from himself.


	2. a refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting early for Day 3 of Culmets Celebration 2020: "In Every Universe" - Alternate Universes
> 
> This is a semi-continuation of [For the Revolution](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993012), a scene I wrote for Culmets Week 2019. I've changed some of the backstory in my head since things are popping off so much here in the US I really think this could be set right now or in a couple of years, so any continuity errors are because I sort of want to rewrite that scene now.

By the time Hugh reaches the rear basement door of the safehouse (a two-story apartment building with an underground level), true exhaustion is setting in. His adrenaline has been keeping him going admirably all day, from the clashes with police in the streets as he tried to help the injured, to the running and hiding. But now that he knows he’s about to be _safe_ , his body wants to drop.

Still. He fumbles for his key, tied into the belt loop of his cargo pants, and unlocks the door.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” Paul asks for the third time.

“No,” Hugh says. “But I’m hoping you’ll show me it’s okay.” He has no reason to believe that Paul is an informant or otherwise unsafe, but every time Paul _asks,_ he gets nervous. The fact that he keeps asking demonstrates quite clearly that Paul is unfamiliar with underground work. Which is fine. His farm kept a lot of folks fed, and was vital aboveground support for the resistance.

But if the rest of Hugh’s affinity group is unnerved by Paul’s wide-eyed naivete about how these things work, then they might have a problem.

“Sorry,” Paul whispers as Hugh slowly opens the door and motions Paul to follow him.

“Just… chill.”

Hugh closes and locks the door behind Paul, and now they’re standing in the dark foyer of the basement, a small room filled on all sides with dusty broken washing machines and dryers. Another door, reinforced with two by fours, awaits in front of them.

“Tarantula!” Hugh calls into the dark.

“Bucket,” comes a bored-sounding voice, muffled by the wall. There’s a scraping noise and then the door creaks open.

“I have a guest,” Hugh says as Tilly pokes her head through the door. “Paul, from the farm?”

“Huuuuuuuuugh,” Tilly groans, eying Paul warily and shaking her head. “Stop bringing people here. The limit of how much we can do is not just theoretical.”

Hugh knows she’s right. And also knows she doesn’t really mean it.

Hugh glances at Paul, who is looking extremely affronted and is opening his mouth to argue. Hugh continues, “The farm burned down. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, Tilly.”

“Lots of people don’t have anywhere to go!” she exclaims with familiar exasperation. “At least let me pat him down first.”

“Really?” Paul is giving both of them a withering look.

“You wanna come in, or you wanna sleep on the street?” Tilly challenges.

“Fine.”

Tilly steps forward and pulls the door shut behind her. She gestures for Paul to lift his arms and stand with his feet apart, and then pats him down thoroughly and rapidly, digging into his pockets. “He’s clear,” she says at last.

Paul grimaces. “I hope so, I barely escaped with my life, let alone a wire to come infiltrate you.”

“Don’t fucking joke about that,” Hugh snaps. _Why can_ _’t he just shut the hell up?_

She unlocks the door again and gestures for them to come in. “Hi Paul,” she says. “I’m Tilly. I think we met at the benefit several months ago. You were showing me how to plan a garden.”

“First, you need to put the plants outside,” Paul says, gesturing around at the dark basement.

Hugh rolls his eyes. _And I wanted to fuck him in a closet two hours ago?_ He sighs. _And I still do_.

They enter the main room, what used to be the laundry room. Beat-up couches, stained rugs, and makeshift bedrolls litter the floor next to the last working washer and dryer. Michael and Book are curled up on one of the couches together, fast asleep. _God, they_ _’re cute_. He can’t wait until he’s asleep himself. But Paul’s still following him around - and he needs to get him situated.

Paul is looking around the room with wide-eyed interest. “Do you sleep out _here_?”

Hugh laughs shortly, his brain flashing him awkward imagery of him and Paul under the covers on the floor somewhere in this room, trying to - _nope_. “No, I’ve got a room in back. Come on.”

Paul follows him to a door in the back of the room. “Here we are,” he says, pushing the door open so Paul can see in.

Paul snorts and then starts laughing. “You didn’t tell me you _actually_ sleep in a closet.”

“Do you want to come in or not?” Hugh asks irritably.

“Absolutely,” Paul says with zero hesitation, the joking demeanor falling away.

Hugh hears snickering behind him as they go into his room and shut the door.

The room is in fact a glorified closet. There’s room for his mattress and a pile of clothes behind it. He’s tacked posters everywhere, remnants of his past organizing work - benefit shows, protests, mutual aid medical projects, food programs.

“I recognize that poster,” Paul says as he sits down on the mattress, pointing at one on the wall almost at his eye level. It was the groundbreaking for the food project started years ago, that had gradually dwindled to just Paul’s farm. It had once been a whole city block. “I wasn’t involved then. But I used to know a lot of people who were.”

Hugh flops down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s been a day.”

“Yeah.” Paul is still sitting at the edge of the bed, gazing almost warily at Hugh.

“You kinda got on my nerves back there,” Hugh says.

Paul opens his mouth, closes it. Finally he replies, “I’m sorry. It has been a day. And… I do better with routine. Not an excuse. An explanation.”

“At least you’re honest,” Hugh says. “More than I can say for most of the people I meet. Come here.” Hugh reaches out a hand. Paul takes his hand and Hugh pulls him onto the bed and wraps his arms around him. Paul smells like smoke and sweat, and even though Hugh is exhausted his mind is still flashing back to kissing Paul in that other closet, and before long his lips find Paul’s neck, and then his jaw, and finally his lips.

As they melt into each other, the worries of the day, the month, the *year* fade away for a while.

Hugh wakes what he thinks is many hours later. A quick glance at his clock confirms he’s been asleep for seven hours, a true luxury these days. He stretches out, expecting to find Paul next to him, but only finds a pillow and crumpled sheets.

 _Damn_.

There was a lot more he had wanted to say to Paul. That if he wants to stay here for any length of time he’ll need to get comfortable with the secure way they operate, and he’ll need to stop throwing questions and skepticism everywhere. Maybe that works when he runs his own aboveground project, but it won’t work here. He’ll need to contribute. And Hugh would also tell him that Hugh would prefer to lose himself in kissing Paul all day, wishes he had the space to truly breathe and relax and recover from everything that’s been happening.

But he’s tired, he’s tired. Day after day supporting the revolution in the streets in the dying embers of the American empire. Surrounded by the debris of a collapsed industrial economy and the trauma of so much death and suffering…

Voices have suddenly gotten louder outside his door, and the one sounding animated and insistent sounds a lot like Paul. The other is Michael.

Hugh sighs, turns on the overhead light with the pull cord, and rummages around for his clothes. _If I have to break up a fight_ , he grumbles, _I_ _’m kicking his ass out._

When he’s dressed, he pushes open the door and finds Michael and Paul sitting on one of the couches near the closet door, laughing over something on Michael’s tablet.

“I thought you two were arguing,” he says loudly.

“We were, but I’m giving him a second chance,” Michael says.

“More like a tenth chance,” Paul says self-deprecatingly. “It turns out Michael and I used to know each other a long time ago. I lived on her block when I was a teenager and she was a little kid.”

“Paul was showing me an old video of his high school play.”

Hugh raises his eyebrows eyebrow at Paul. “You were an actor?”

Paul shrugs nonchalantly. “Not outside of school. I did a few plays in high school and college.”

“This video he’s showing me, I used to be able to hear him practicing his lines from three houses down,” Michael says. “It was like he was just shouting them out the window.”

“My drama teacher was always yelling at us to project our voices,” Paul explains defensively.

“You could’ve projected your voice anywhere else,” Michael teases. “Would have benefitted the whole community.”

Hugh finds himself grinning at them. Maybe it won’t be so hard for Paul to fit in here after all.


	3. this whole heterosexual courtship thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of Culmets Celebration 2020: "In Every Universe" - Alternate Universes
> 
> This story is based on the truly amazing Reddit story about the gay and trans guys who get married to satisfy their parents' desire for them to have a straight marriage, and then slowly fall in love. I didn't get very far with this but it was fun to write. I changed the context a bit for them to be American and their families to be conservative Christians who prefer the courtship model. I'm not trans so if you have any feedback about how I wrote this please let me know.  
> Here's the Twitter post from which I originally learned about this story. https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1241613092875841536

When Hugh and Paul go into the other room, away from their parents, Hugh wastes no time, facing Paul squarely.

“My name is Hugh,” Hugh hisses urgently. “I’m not a woman. Don’t listen to what they say.”

Paul blinks, clearly confused by the way Hugh has changed up how these introductions usually go. “You’re… not a woman?”

Hugh’s heart races. This is only the second time he’s said these words out loud to another person. He just needs to convince this guy that he's damaged goods, and they can both move on from this ridiculous arranged meeting and get on with their lives. “I’m a guy. My name is Hugh. You don't want to marry me, I'm very confused and messed up and not right with God. Just tell your parents you're not interested and we can both move on.”

The confused expression on Paul’s face transforms into a grin, and then he collapses onto the couch, laughing. When he gets his breath under control, he says, “Well, I’m… gay. So this whole heterosexual courtship thing isn’t really working for me either.”

Relief floods into his limbs and he lets out a bark of a laugh before flopping down next to Paul. “Oh my God,” Hugh hisses, joining Paul in the giggles. “No wonder they’re having such a hard time matching us up. It seemed like your parents were so tired of you.”

“To be fair,” Paul says, still grinning, “this is the first time they’ve successfully tricked me into one of these meetings, and the only reason I haven’t left already is that home is thirty miles away. The last time they brought me out somewhere it was only five miles from home and I just left.”

Hugh nods excitedly. “I started resisting at first. Who wants to get married? But my parents are so traditional, and I need a place to live, and I can’t afford to come out right now, and I’m honestly a little afraid of how they’d try to take away my freedom if I didn’t humor them on these visits. Fortunately so far I’ve just told them I don’t think God is telling me this is the right man for me, but I don’t know how long I can get away with it.”

Paul is equally enthusiastic. “I'm so glad you feel the same way,” he says, leaning toward Hugh and gesturing as he talks. “Everyone else they want to try to match me with is some super churchy girl. I hate acting straight at church and my parents just won't _believe me_ when I tell them I'm only interested in men…” He trails off, his eyes widening. “Wait. Wait. I have an idea, Hugh.”

Hugh laughs. “I’m not ditching our parents. I don’t need any more trouble.”

“No no no. I have an even better idea.”

After several more minutes of talking, Paul excuses himself for the bathroom, and Hugh is left alone with his thoughts.

Paul’s idea is perfect. Isn’t it? Hugh can’t imagine keeping up this level of lie to his parents. But on the other hand… he could be out of the house. And it wouldn’t really be a lie. Paul seems like a nice guy, someone who he’d have enough in common with to be decent roommates. And away from his parents, maybe he could feel more like himself. And his parents wouldn’t be able to have anything to say about it. Because Paul would be his husband. And his parents’ own religion says that the husband is the head of the household and makes the rules…

By the time Paul returns, Hugh has made up his mind.

They return to the living room where their parents are chatting over lemonade and cookies. Their parents turn expectantly, in unison, to face their kids.

“We have a lot in common. I’d like to see Paul again, and he’s agreed,” Hugh announces, and the gleeful expressions of their parents do a lot to cement the wiseness of this choice. Paul and Hugh smile at each other. He hopes their conspiratorial grins just look happy.

As it turns out, Paul and Hugh do really have a lot in common, and it only takes a couple more chaperoned dates for both of them to convince their parents they are serious about getting married. Maybe it’s the long period of disappointment both sets of parents have had trying to find spouses for their kids, but Hugh is surprised at how easily they all fall into negotiating wedding plans.

Meanwhile, Paul has gotten a job in a town a few hours away and is saving up for their first apartment together. Hugh is making plans to attend community college in that town once they’re married. Of course he’s telling his parents he’s looking at the child development or education tracks, but secretly he can’t wait to go pre-med, prepare to become the trans doctor he’s wished he could have.

And researching therapists and doctors who can help him maybe start transitioning…

But can he really do that? What will his parents do?

 _It won_ _’t matter_ , he tells himself, _they won_ _’t be able to tell me what to do anymore_. But he’s still scared.

Three months later, Paul and Hugh are married in a small ceremony in Paul’s family’s church. Hugh wears a white dress, and hates it. Kissing Paul on the lips is very strange. It’s Hugh’s first kiss. He really isn’t sure how kissing works, even. But it’s mercifully short, and everyone claps and cheers, and then there’s cake.

There’s no honeymoon, but they tell everyone they’ll go away for their first anniversary instead, and nobody questions it.

As soon as he gets to the new apartment, he’s never wearing a dress again.

Their new apartment is an old, cramped two-bedroom apartment within walking distance of the community college. There’s mold in the bathroom, and noisy neighbors downstairs, but he and Paul are FREE of their parents, and it’s glorious.

Paul has also decided to start attending the community college, taking an introductory biology course along with his grounds maintenance job at the local zoo.

At first, they’re home together a lot, as they settle into the apartment, unpack, and argue over interior decorating. Paul has these ugly mushroom string lights that Hugh eventually relents about. Paul gets over Hugh dropping his jacket next to the coat hooks in the front hall.

It only takes a few days, though, before Paul suddenly becomes very scarce around the place. He comes home late and is still asleep when Hugh leaves for classes. After another week, Hugh asks Paul, “Where are you every evening?”

Paul blushes. “Dates. A lot of dates.”

“Oh.” Hugh chuckles nervously. “I… can’t even imagine being ready to date.”

“It’s such a relief to be able to date for real. To just say out loud, I like men, and not have to worry about anyone's response.”

“I can’t relate,” Hugh says, again with the nervous laughter. “Well, maybe I can. I can say out loud, I am a man.” He’s blushing. It’s still wild to say. He goes on, “I only ever wanted to date guys anyway, so that wasn't much of a revelation.”

Hugh envies the ease with which Paul has slipped into their new freedom. He wants to feel more free too. But it’s hard when he doesn’t look or *feel* like himself, just yet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Brave Decisions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582272) by [all_new_wolverine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_new_wolverine/pseuds/all_new_wolverine)




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